Time
by N811
Summary: Everybody makes mistakes. But when you risk to loose everything in your life for a stupid mistake, can you live with it or does it destroy everything you ever wanted? Alex Eames has to choose. Can she make it better or does she give up?
1. Time to pretend

„Take the gun down."

Bobbys voice was silent and calm. Alex stood behind him. Trembling. Her hands were full of blood. She was pale and quiet. It was all like a dream. She could see Bobbys face. He was looking as if there was no man with a gun. As if he didn't point a gun on him.

She watched him talking to the guy but she didn't hear what he was saying. She just watched. She watched his hands as he tried to take the gun away. She watched his lips move as he talked to him. She watched his broad shoulders and noticed that he was squirming in pain. Suddenly she saw that his white shirt was red. Red from blood. His blood. He was holding his left hand over his right shoulder. He had turned a bit so that she couldn't see the wound.

She felt hot tears running down her face. This was all her fault. He wouldn't even be here when she hadn't been so stubborn. They fought. She was mad. She stopped listening to him. She stopped thinking. Did what he didn't want to do.

She drove to his apartment but he wasn't there. She found him in the garage. She saw his gun and drew her weapon. More correctly, she wanted to. But there was none. She had forgotten her gun. She had left it on her desk. During her whole carrier she never once forgot her gun.

He was shouting at her. Waving with his gun and shouting. She didn't know what to do. She was scared.

He fired his gun and she screamed. She talked to him. Tried to calm him.

Two hands wrapped around her shoulders and pushed her gently out of the way. Her tears were falling down. She thought she could hear them falling to the ground.

She watched the ground. She saw his feet stumbling towards her. She watched as other feet came and took his away from her. She watched the ground as such feet took her away, too. And when an ambulance drove her to the hospital, she watched the ground.

The drive to hospital was long. A doctor looked her over. He said she was fine but he wanted her not to stay alone. She was shocked, he said. She couldn't do a thing alone now, he said. And he was right. She couldn't function alone. Not without him.

It would be her fault when he died. She would have ended both their lives.

She knew that the shot had hit him. She heard him coming, she heard the shot and she heard a body falling to ground. She knew it was him. Deep down she knew. But she didn't want to believe it. She wanted to pretend. To pretend that this was a dream. That everything was a dream.

She closed her eyes and pretended. She closed them and willed them to open to another world. She wanted to see Bobby, alive, beside her, with her; when she opened her eyes.

But all she saw were the white walls and a doctor stepping out of Bobbys room. She didn't want to look in his eyes. They always told the truth.

They had told her that her husband had died.

She didn't want to see the death of the only man she truly loved in those eyes.

She just wanted to pretend.


	2. Time to paint

He opened his eyes to white walls. He turned his head and everything he looked at was white. He searched for something golden but didn't find anything. He turned his head in every direction but was dissapointed.

He was alone. Alone in this totally white room.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember. They fought. She was mad. She was stubborn as ever. He should have know. She stopped listening to him and went her own way. He schould have know.

He schould have known. She could have died. And it would have been his fault. He schould have protected her.

The guy had a gun. And she had left hers on her desk. She had no protection. She could have died. The guy shot. This shot could have hit her. It could have been her.

But the bullet hit him. It was him and not her.

And he was happy. He would have died if it had rescued her.

„Mr. Goren? How are you?"

A man in a white coat stepped to his bed.

„Mr. Goren? Can you hear me?"

„Where is Alex? Alex Eames? My partner?"

„Mr. Goren. Keep calm. You need to rest. You lost a lot of blood. What is the last thing you remember?"

Bobby watched the man. He was white. Like the rest he saw. Where was the color? Where was the gold he searched so much? Where was Eames?

„Mr. Goren. Please answer me. If you don't say anything I have to expect the worst."

„I've already said something. Where is Eames?"

„Mr. Goren. Stay calm. I will ask for your partner as soon as I'm sure you're fine."

„I'm fine. Now search her. Is she okay? Did something happen to her?"

„Mr. Goren! Don't worry. She is fine. She suffered from a shock and we keep an eye on her."

„Can I see her?"

„I will ask the nurse. But I can't promise you anything."

He patted Bobby on his shoulder and left the room. Bobby waited for the nurse. It felt like it was an eternity. When she finally came she came alone. And she wore white. Bobby felt sick. He hated white. White was the color of the sick and the poor. It was th ecolor of the crazy ones.

„Mr. Goren? Are you awake?"

„Is Eames there?"

„I'm sorry, sir, but Ms. Eames is too tired. She is sleeping right now. You should sleep too. She can visit you tomorrow."

„I want to see her. Now."

„Mr. Goren, stay calm. You can't see her now. Ms. Eames suffers from a big shock. She needs to rest."

She left the room and closed the door. He was alone. He missed his partner. He needed to see her.

Slowly he stood up and winced when feeling the pain. Quietly he left the room and tried to keep still although the pain was almost unbearable. But it didn't matter for him. What mattered was her. And that he saw her now.

He found her room. He thanked god that the nurses weren't there at the time he stumbled through the halls and searched for her room.

When he found it he hesistated but then stepped in without knocking. She was alone in the room. Her back showed towards him, he couldn't see her face. But her hair. Her golden hair. It was the only thing that wasn't white.

He stepped nearer. By now he couldn't stand staight up because of the pain and sat in the chair beside her bed. He stroke her hair with his healthy hand.

„This is my fault."

He wanted to say something. He didn't say anything. She wasn't finished yet.

„I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

„It's okay, hun', nothing happened."

„No it's not okay."

She turned around and saw him sitting the chair. Vulnerable. Sick. Wounded.

She began to cry.

„Oh god, Bobby. You could have died! It would have been mine fault. I would have lost you."

She trembled. She shook. She cried. He climed into bed with her and hold her while she cried.

The last thing that was heard in this white room was a whispered ‚I love you' and a sharp intake of breath.


End file.
